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Vulnerability isn't something that comes naturally to me. When you're raised the way I was, you learn that feelings aren't something that you should share. Instead, they should be locked away and forgotten in a place where nobody can find them.
“I am broken. But don't ever feel sorry for me. I don't need your sympathy.”
Why the fuck would we willingly want to revisit the demons living in the deep dark closets in the back of our minds? The ones that we purposefully locked away?
I know love isn't easy, but is it supposed to be this hard?
Close your mouth unless you want me to fill it, Gracie.
Our family doesn’t do dinners. We don’t do much of anything, actually, besides throw low-blow insults and call each other nasty names like children who have just learned swear words.
He deserves so much better than this. Than what he had.
Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be alone.
“Feel how hard my heart is beating,” I mutter, almost begging. “That’s for you. It’s been like that for years, but you never gave me the chance to tell you.”
A love like theirs doesn't just die with someone. It stays forever, lingering in the nipping wind and chirping with the birds.
As much as it nauseates me to say it, he loves you. And right now, the people who love you are the only people that matter.
